Tuesday, July 14, 2015

William Myrl; Letters to No One (14)

Dear No One,
Last year was not nearly so interesting as this one. There were no posters, no concerts, and no art contest. You're lucky I started writing you when I did, otherwise all of our communications would be about books and food.
Jark got an audition with Pariah today. He knows the drummer and walked over with him to their practice. It went well. The guys over there are experienced players who know all the jargon we don't. They put music to some of his lyrics. He was pleased. The plan is still to get our own group together for next year’s auditions, but while he infiltrates one group I am trying for another. So far, I haven't gotten to sing for them, but I have made headway with one of their members and been introduced to their bandleader. He gave me an ambivalent answer, but I am going to put some friendly pressure on the other guy to get me over there. If it doesn't work I may just crash one of their practices, or else sing to the guy in the chow hall. They are losing their lead singer in the near future, in all likelihood, and even if they weren’t, they could use another back up. I love singing, and ever since going to the rock concert I have wanted to do it more and more. This audition/not audition thing has me in a tizzy because of the limits to my effort. I can only contact these people by happening to run into them at chow or on the rec yard, and only the helpful one shares a rec schedule with me. Let’s call him Apostle. He can sing precisely, and he knows musical theory, he actually went to school to learn how to sing/coach others to sing. He isn't in possession of a very powerful voice himself, but overall he could hardly be a more convenient person for me now. Apostle is youngish, possibly thirty, and seems pretty gay but may not be. I met him briefly at the graduation, where I mentioned liking to sing. Later, I saw him on the rec yard and made a point of striking up a conversation. We talked a little about music then as well. It was a couple of conversations later that auditioning came up, with but a bit of prompting. He was quite confident he could get me in for that at least, so I don't know what the hold up may be. I'm worried that because I undersold myself to Apostle he in turn undersold me to the lead band guy. Bad play on my part. I’m going to correct that impression the next time I see him, hopefully tomorrow, if I have to belt out piano man on the rec yard to do it.
More on this later.
I went to church tonight. As one can't be on two religious pass lists at once, I had to get a ticket from someone who wasn't going. It's technically a charge, but so is wearing your ID in a fashion that is not immediately visible. They don't check, as a rule.
I go to practice my vocals, obviously. I sing along to everything, even when I do not know the words. I make word like noises over the phrases unfamiliar to me. No one can call me on it because its church, and half the people there say amen and hallelujah when it doesn’t make any sense to do so. It’s the perfect, nonjudgmental, practice environment. There were three men from an outside church who came to speak. One of them had not only been in prison, but had been in this prison. He knew one of the inmates at the service from their time together, and he made references to things that would only click if you lived here. He said that some of the same COs that would have never shaken his hand before now welcomed him when he came. It was because of the grace of god that they did. His sermon was energetic, and interspersed with songs that the "choir" couldn’t make heads or tails of. They stood awkwardly as he made his voice known. I followed when I could, but his diction and the acoustics of the chow hall where they hold service conspired against me.
Now I have returned, and the night is mostly done. I did some editing for M3 this morning and I went outside this afternoon. I will be watching Hannibal at 10. The luxury and wonder that are mine exceed all worldly bounds and reason. My celly is planning a fourth of July meal tomorrow. It’s going to be hit or miss, as his culinary prowess is somewhat limited. Given that my contributions are minor, I don’t ever complain about what’s given to me. I don’t want to offend his grandfatherly sensibilities either. I hope your life is as exciting as mine.
Yours, William Myrl (14)

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